Chapter 2
Keefe O’Brian taped shut a box labeled “Drop This and Die” and carried it to the entryway, where the rest of his sister’s belongings were already stacked.
It wasn’t a large pile—Sophie hadn’t brought much with her when they moved to Ireland—but that didn’t make it any less imposing.
Not because of the size, but because of what it meant.
It was the end of a chapter he’d thought would last longer.
Maybe it wasn’t what every brother and sister would want, but he and Sophie weren’t like every brother and sister.
Sure, they fought like demons—both for and with each other—but they always made up.
At the end of the day, Sophie was his best friend, really.
Although they didn’t live in each other’s pocket, they had spent the majority of their lives together—not out of obligation, but love.
They consulted each other on nearly everything.
In fact, there was hardly a memory worth remembering that didn’t involve Sophie.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
The walls of the house already felt emptier, as if they knew she was leaving.
In some backwards way, he almost regretted nudging Sophie and Liam back together.
But then he’d seen the way she lit up around him, how the laughter reached her eyes again, and Keefe couldn’t begrudge her that happiness.
Like flowers and sunshine, they belonged together.
Still. There it was—that dull, sinking weight in his chest.
Sophie had been staying at Liam’s off and on for weeks now, so the move wasn’t a surprise.
Neither was the wedding, which was only days away.
And Keefe would be the proudest brother Ireland had ever seen when she walked down that aisle.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss her dearly.
Sure, they still owned O’Brian’s Taproom together, but working with someone and living with someone were two different things.
These days when he returned home from a day at work, instead of enjoying a laugh with his sister, he was alone.
And in case you’re wondering, his shadow was not good company.
“Hey, Soph?” he called out.
“Yeah?” came her voice from the bedroom, followed by a muffled curse and the clatter of a tape dispenser hitting the floor.
Keefe smiled and said, “I’ll load these boxes into the car now.”
“Okay. Thanks. Hey, I’m not going to Liam’s tonight. Thought maybe you and I could hang out. Just us. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you outside the pub.”
He lifted a box into his arms, warmth blooming in his chest. “I’d like that,” he said, then over his shoulder, “Let’s order pizza.”
“Pepperoni and sausage?” she called back.
As if they would get anything else. They’d been ordering the same pizza since they were seven, back when they talked their parents into letting them try every pie on the menu— every single one.
Even the anchovy and olive disaster. They had each taken one bite, made matching faces of horror, and spat it out in perfect unison, declaring it the worst food on earth.
But the pepperoni with sausage? That one stuck. It wasn’t just their favorite, it became tradition. One small, greasy symbol of who they were: always in sync, always side by side. It was one of the first of many twin quirks that had quietly stitched their lives together.
By the time he returned, she was flipping through the pizzeria’s menu even though she knew the number by heart. It was the ritual, not the result, that mattered. Keefe leaned against the counter, arms folded, while she made the call and placed the order.
“How many more boxes have you got? The trunk is full but the whole backseat is empty.” She really had come with just about nothing.
“Just one small one.”
He nodded and studied her for a beat. “So, tell me, why are you spending one of your last evenings of freedom with me instead of letting our aunts throw you a bachelorette party? You never had one before and they throw a great party.” Keefe snorted a laugh as he recalled Sondra’s bachelorette party that him and the rest of the O’Brian men crashed.
He smiled remembering they had arrived at the door just in time to send the stripper packing.
It had turned out to be the best party ever.
“Sondra’s party was one crazy night, wasn’t it?
” Sophie laughed too remembering that day.
“But you know I’m hardly the type for strippers and pin the penis and honestly?
I’d rather spend time with my jerk brother before I officially move out.
” Sophie opened the refrigerator door and retrieved two beers then turned back handing one to her brother. “I feel like I’m abandoning you.”
She wasn’t abandoning him. She was finally going to live the life she was meant to with Liam.
Keefe couldn’t begrudge her that. Especially when he was the one who got that ball rolling in the first place.
All he wanted was for his sister to be happy and now she was. “Time with my sister sounds perfect.”
He was happy for her. Truly.
But in a few days time, he’d be rambling around this house on his own with nothing to keep him company except the plants.
Sophie took a bite of the cheesy pizza and pulled it away from her mouth, letting the cheese pull in one long string away from her mouth. “So, what will you do with yourself after I move out?”
Keefe took a loud slurp of beer then said, “Dunno. Find a hobby I guess? Connor is busy being a dad, Simon is busy covering for Connor at work and being a newlywed, even aunt Nan is a newlywed and now you…”
“See? You do feel like I’m abandoning you.”
“Fine, yes. Happy now?” Disagreeing was futile--seeing as she was right and all.
“Maybe now you’ll find yourself a girlfriend. You don’t need me in the way.”
Pfft. Just the chance for his sister to be in the way was a fine thought. “I think I’ve given up on that. Besides, every girl I bring home, you hate.”
“I didn’t hate all of them,” she said, selecting another slice of pizza. She didn’t give one thought to the fact that she had a wedding dress to fit into.
Keefe barked a laugh. “Name one you liked and you can have this last chicken wing.” He picked up the last spicy wing from the container and held it up as her prize.
She thought, took a sip of beer, and thought some more, then took a bite of pizza and thought longer. All the while, Keefe was giving her that look—with one raised eyebrow.
“Well, what about Krystle?”
“Which one? Krystle Holcomb or Nelson?”
“There were two?” Good Lord, there had been so many even he couldn’t remember them all.
“Nelson.”
“Oh yeah... she was really nice. I’ve never met such a sweet girl.”
“Please, she farted cotton candy. She was too nice.”
“How can you be too nice?”
“I don’t know, but that one left that line far behind her. Even when she sneezed, it sounded like a bunny sneezing.”
“If she was so nice and you liked her so much, then why am I still single?”
“Because, like I said, she was too nice. She was driving you crazy. Don’t you remember? You begged me to get rid of her for you.” Sophie snatched the chicken wing from Keefe’s hand and ate it.
“Okay, fine. But what about Susan? I loved her.”
“You loved her ass and long hair and how she fell on your every word. She was vile, Keefe.” She pointed her finger at him as she lifted her beer. “And guess what, bro? You called her that, not me.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot. She really was a bitch. Ick—and she had that clicking thing she did with her jaw.” He shivered at the thought.
“Yeah, and that’s what all of them are like. Some worse than others, but every one of them was the same. You always go too far. She’s either too damn nice, or she’s a Susan.”
Keefe laughed and finished his slice of pizza, and as he reached for another, he got an idea. It was crazy—of course, most of his ideas were—but it just might work.
“All right then, since you’re so smart, Miss it-only-took-thirty-five-years-but-now-I’m-marrying-the-love-of-my-life , why don’t you pick one out?”
“What? A girlfriend, you mean? Keefe—ewww. I’m not procuring you women.”
Keefe exaggerated a sigh. “Well, who better than my best friend?”
“No. We’re close, but that’s—that’s just crossing a line.”
“Who else should I ask? I know, I’ll call Mom. She’s always telling me to settle down. I bet she’s got someone in mind.”
He was baiting her. Sophie knew it. But she wasn’t giving in.
Keefe sighed. “All right, fine. I guess I’ll just be alone forever, watching everyone else be happy.
I don’t need a wife or children.” He paused and looked away, staring out the window at the garden.
“I always wondered if I did, if they would be twins like you and me. But that’s okay. I’ll just get a cat.”
Man, did he know how to manipulate her or what?
“All right! Jesus! Fine! But I won’t go looking! I’m not your pimp! If I just happen to meet one who I think might be nice, then maybe— maybe after my skin stops crawling—I’ll introduce you.”
“Since when are you a prude?”
“I’m not a prude. Just forgive me if I don’t want to think of my brother having sex with a woman that I set him up with. Ew!” Sophie stuck out her tongue and shook her head.
“Okay, when you put it like that, it does sound weird.”
“See? It’s weird!” She took a long swig of beer and then another as she considered.
Her brother was notorious for choosing bad girlfriends.
Jesus, the last one he had was over a year ago—and what a doozy she was.
A total airhead who was like a parrot: cute but stupid.
But Sophie knew better than anyone how lonely Keefe would be once she moved out.
He was right—everyone had someone but him, and that was no fun.
And what if he met another self-centered slut like Susan? Dear God, save us all.
Keefe’s problem was that he didn’t know what he wanted. He loved women. It didn’t really matter if they were short, tall, fat, skinny, dumb, or Einstein smart—not that he ever brought one of those home. Her brother was just too damn nice and didn’t know how to say no.
So where did that leave Sophie? Should she help him or not?
“I don’t know, Keefe…”
“But you’ll do it, right?”
“The chance to find you someone who I actually get along with? I’m in. Call it making up for leaving you on your own so soon. But if I find someone and it doesn’t work out, then I’m out. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Sophie tipped back her can of beer, finished it off, then got up to get another from the fridge. She opened the door, then decided she needed two.
“It will be fun. I’ll just need to become an alcoholic for a while. I love you, you big jerk.”
“Me too, you pain in my—I mean, oh lovely, most generous, considerate, and may I add radiant sister of mine!”
“Nice save.”
“Thanks.”
“But just so we’re clear: I’m not your pimp!”
“Noted. But I’m still putting ‘matchmaker’ in your wedding toast.”